Left in the Dark
by Mellifluousness
Summary: Bodies left in the dark have a tendency to get up and walk around again. Ever wondered how the undead characters of Ears to Hear Us lost their heartbeat privileges? I'll ask, but don't expect the answers to be pretty... Side-stories of Ears to Hear Us, so you'll have to read that to see where the characters come from.
1. Throatless

**A/N: Greetings, Internet! Mellifluousness here, writing a bit of an **_**Ears to Hear Us **_**side-story. The zombie in **_**Ears to Hear Us **_**chapter eleven was in the story for about four paragraphs before I killed him off, but by the request of the incredible xoxLEXIxox I've written him a bit of a backstory. This will detail how he died and give you a bit more information on what he was like. I had fun with this. Chapter eleven has also gone through some minor editations (it should be a word) and now says that he's badly torn up instead of mainly intact. You'll have to read to see why. :P**

**And to that Guest who reviewed... I'm glad you liked it, but I _did _say this is a side-story of my main fanfiction, _Ears to Hear Us. _He doesn't appear for long in that, which is why I wrote this, but if you want to see him as a zombie read that. He doesn't get back at Enchantress, unfortunately, because this happens long before _Ears to Hear Us' _timeline. It's unlikely that you'll ever read this again, but I might as well say it. :)  
**

**Oh, and you can call him Throatless.**

I, Throatless

I remember that it was a beautiful day.

The air was crisp and fresh. Cold, as it always was. Taiga is characterised by cold. I dressed up warmly, put on that dark green long-sleeved shirt I like so much and my long brown pants. It helps to blend in; you never know what's out there in the mornings. I slipped on my iron boots and helmet – I was still saving up for the chestplate and leggings – and called my wolf to my side before heading out the door. I was a Loner back then, sole resident of the region Frostgrip, and glad of it; I was never the most sociable of people. The wolf, I remember, was called Bite because of his tendency to try to eat anything that came close enough or even _thought _about looking tasty. The thing had a pretty nasty bite, too, strong jaws that would never let go and jagged teeth that could rip flesh easily. I knew from experience. All the same, he was cuddly and playful and never hesitant to snuggle up to me when I was sitting on the bed or whatever, something I wasn't always too happy about.

So we headed out that morning to catch some breakfast, iron sword in my hand and Bite prancing around like a hyperactive pup. My mouth twitched up at the corner a bit at his antics; I'm not much of one to smile, but that dog is _such_ an idiot.

About an hour passed and still I was trudging through the snow, not one piece of meat richer. Bite kept looking at me as though to ask, "_So? Where's all the food?" _I snorted. Come _on, _dog. Like I'm the one to blame. He did this for what had to be the fifteenth time when abruptly his head snapped around and his ears pricked as though he had heard something coming from the other direction. His whole body tensed, beginning to shake like it did when he was about to let loose one of his thunderous barks and I thought fast, grabbing his collar and hissing at him to shut up. He crouched immediately in surprise and tilted his head back, mouth opened as though threatening to give me a nip, before he remembered who I was and stopped. I dragged him towards the nearest tree and got rid of some of the leaves with a pair of shears (I like to be prepared) before scrambling up the trunk with the help of a ladder and destroying all evidence of my ascent. Crouching amongst the branches with Bite at my side, I waited silently until the sound of footsteps on snow reached my less sensitive Minecrafter ears. You got griefers coming up from the southern lands every so often, so I always had to be careful of whom I trusted. It was always safest to remain hidden.

The footsteps slowly grew louder and soon I could tell them apart; one set loud and heavy, the other softer, lighter. A big man and a woman, perhaps? Griefers usually travelled in large groups or alone, so these two were most likely something else. Suddenly I could make out voices and my suspicions were confirmed; one was a very deep man's voice, the other soft and light. They came into view and I could see that the man was huge, as tall as two and a half blocks with a build like an iron golem and an axe too big for its own good strapped across his back. His clothes were plain, unflashy and practical, but the woman was an entirely different story. She wore a flowing green robe with extra-long sleeves that sparkled and glittered dazzlingly as it swished back and forth behind her, long enough to trail on the ground. Her hair was long and well and truly crimson, her head adorned by a yellow-dyed headband that was purely ornamental and did nothing to keep her fringe out of her eyes. Her boots were a darker green than her robe, rather high-heeled and glamorously bejewelled. She was tiny, too, not much more than one and a half blocks tall. I knew at first glance that this was no ordinary Minecrafter; this woman was surely an Enchanter. All the more reason to stay hidden; people like this could be _very _dangerous. I sunk lower in the leaves and Bite followed suit.

"Yes, well, _if_ we meet any bandits, I'll be sure to take care of them," Enchanter was saying.

"I would still advise discretion, Mistress," the big man – I assumed he'd be a lumberjack or perhaps a blacksmith – rumbled. "We do not want yet _another _region to tremble in fear at the mention of your name."

"Fear means _business," _Enchanter countered, "And you know how much I _love _business… and _hate _sneaky little creepers that hide in trees with their wolves," she added with a nasty smirk. My eyes widened but I had no time to act before she slapped her enchanting table down and called forth purple fire from the pages of the floating book, a great reaching hand of the stuff that grabbed me around the waist and threw Bite and I to the snowy ground. I landed hard, face-first, the wolf hitting the ground beside me with a _yip _of pain and lying still. The lumberjack stared at me, surprised, as the Enchanter advanced towards me with dainty steps, crouching in front of me and taking my chin between her clawlike finger and thumb. I felt my upper body lift off the ground slightly and stared into her Void-black eyes that glittered maniacally as energy crackled across her hands in violet sparks.

"And what are you doing hiding in the trees like a sneaky little spy? Spying on us, perhaps?" she asked sweetly, softly, as though speaking to a child.

"Not spying, just hiding," I corrected her as calmly as I could manage, gasping as a spark leapt from her finger and burrowed into my face, giving me a nasty shock.

"Hiding? From little old me? Oh, a big, _strong man _such as you has _nothing _to fear from teeny little Rosella Enchantress," she replied sardonically. Sarcastically. Doubting my strength. Any like for her I had left instantly disappeared. "What do you want from me, Enchantress?" I growled. So the female version had a new name now. Interesting.

The woman pursed her lips in annoyance. "I don't like your tone, mister. People in these parts just have _no _respect for people of my profession. Isn't that right, Gordyn?"

"No respect at all," the giant boomed dutifully.

"Does your wolf like you a lot?" Enchantress asked suddenly. I just stared at her, surprised at such a question. "Answer me," she hissed when I didn't respond.

"Of course," I said after a moment.

"That's good," she replied, letting me drop abruptly. Again I found myself face-down in the snow, gravity pressing down on me hard for a moment as it suddenly returned before it eased off again. "Here, doggy!" she called. I looked up in surprise; Bite would only ever come when _I _called. He hadn't even used to do that much. But to my surprise the wolf was slinking towards her, head bowed and tail low as though ashamed. "Good boy," she praised as he reached her, ruffling his ears. I expected him to raise his head and clamp his great jaws around her delicate hand, but he didn't. He just took it. What was going on?

"On your feet, boy," she ordered, turning to face me. _Boy? _I leapt to my feet, furious. This pompous _idiot _was _daring _to insult me so?

"You need to learn some manners, Enchantress," I growled, brandishing my sword. She laughed.

"No, _you _need to learn some manners. Don't you know how to treat an Enchantress? Well… soon you will," she resolved with a maniacal grin, cocking her head like an animal. Her teeth were slightly pointed.

"_Sick 'im," _she commanded, her voice taking on an odd echoing quality as purple fire leapt up from the enchantment table and engulfed both her and Bite, his head snapping up with his eyes glowing red the way they did when he was in attack mode. He bared his teeth and his hackles rose, a thunderous bark escaping his lips without warning as he sprang, legs laced with the violet flames…

Heading straight for me.

He hit me like bedrock to the face, sharp claws sinking into me and jaws preparing to clamp onto my neck. I rolled over and threw him off but he took it in stride, leaping to his feet again and pouncing for the second time. I dodged – barely – and three long claw marks tore through my shirt and the flesh beneath, spewing out blood like the numerous other wounds the dog had already inflicted. I couldn't, wouldn't draw my sword against him, though, not when he'd saved me from monsters so many times and brought me up on those nights I was so low I touched the Void. Instead I just dodged him again and again, fire and hate in his eyes as he flew back and forth, trailing fire. Hate. Hate for _me…? _Rosella cackled hysterically and Gordyn just watched. Even without touching me Bite managed to carve gashes in my sides, my arms, my legs and my face, his claws at one point raking across my left eye and leaving a massive mark through it. Yelling in pain I recoiled, clutching it to try and stem the bleeding. Too late I realised that the wolf had not halted his attack and I looked up to see him hurtling towards me, claws spread and jaws wide. He tackled me to the ground and landed on my chest, my hands flying away from my bleeding eye and my head hitting the ground hard. I barely had time to say a word before his powerful maw clamped around my throat…

And ripped it out.

I stared at his twisted, bloody face as my own heart pumped the blood out of my neck, drenching my shirt and his paws with its sticky wetness. As my remaining vision blurred I saw the red in his eyes fade and his ears fall right back; as my hearing deserted me I heard him whine and as feeling left I felt him nuzzle me sorrowfully. _"I'm sorry!" _he seemed to whimper. _"Please don't leave!"_

But the last thing I heard was Rosella Enchantress' laughter and her and Gordyn's footsteps as they faded into the distance.

It was then that I died.

_It was well into the night when I stumbled across it. A Minecrafter, lying in the snow, soaked in its own blood. The ground itself was thoroughly crimson, too. A wolf's pawprints trotted away from the body and a leather collar with a golden tag lay on the ground. Script of some kind was engraved into the gold, but I couldn't read it. I had forgotten how to do things like that long ago._

_The Minecrafter was pretty well torn apart. Cuts and gashes everywhere, a huge hole in its throat. It already looked like a far-decomposed zombie, though it couldn't have been more than a day or two old. _

_Normally I would have laughed or made some triumphant noise and moved on. One less Minecrafter in the realm should have been cause for celebration. Something about that scene, however, made me sympathise; could it have been the wolf? The markings? The clothes? I couldn't quite place it, but something about that creature made me take it by the arm and drag it. I think I left some marks around its wrist as my grip kept slipping and the trail it made through the snow would lead anyone nearby towards the cave, but I wanted to help this thing and just didn't care enough. _

_Finally I was inside the tunnel's dark maw and heading downwards again; about five levels below the surface and after a long, winding path was where it reached a dead end. Sitting the body up against the wall, I sat down beside it and made sure it was leaning in a position where it wouldn't fall. I stayed there all night and through the next day before I moved on again, lifting a prayer to Herobrine that the Minecrafter would rise again soon. Bodies left in the dark have a tendency to get up and walk around again._

_Even throatless ones._


	2. Sarah

**A/N: Wai hello again! I've renamed the story that was once **_**I, Throatless **_**with the intent of continuing it like this. I'll also write the stories of Insightful (who you probably don't remember), Awfully Ambitious, Dextrous and whoever else undead we meet in the story. :P So yeah. Happy new year, by the way, and welcome to 2013! We've all survived at least one apocalypse now, so I'm looking forward to all the others that are bound to occur. :D**

**As your new year's present, you can find out how Sarah died. :D **

I dream about it a lot.

The details don't always match up, but it starts the same way every time.

There are clouds, puffy white clouds, and they drift slowly across a sky as blue as lapis lazuli and lighter still.

Sometimes I'm watching her, arms pillowing her head, blue eyes staring upwards from where she lies in the grass.

Sometimes I'm behind those eyes, seeing colour and light, smelling ten thousand scents and feeling the grass cushion me and the cool breeze caress me.

Those dreams are the best.

_And the scariest…_

And then comes the call.

"Hey! Hey-"

The voice always cuts off abruptly for a second there, and I've come to accept it. It's the one condition, really. You can remember everything, crystal clear. Everything except names. I've taken to replacing the gap with 'Sarah' now; it's my name and I'm proud of it.

"Yeah?" I always reply, sitting up and twisting my body around. There's no bow on my back, but for some reason I don't feel naked without it. I always forget what comes next and it always surprises me; I swear the girl running towards me is glowing, her skin as dark as the Void and her hair the colour of snow. I know somehow that pure white hair is uncommon in Minecrafters, but certainly not impossible.

Reaching me, the girl pants for a moment before straightening up again and stretching her arms out like she's surfing, swaying from side to side as she hums a pleasant note. "- says he wants us to go into the swamp to get -." Another two names I can't remember; some boy is out gathering wood or whatever and the blacksmith wants him for something. "Come on! I don't want to go alone," the girl continues. I don't know her name, so I think of her as Singing because that's what she's always doing. It kind of suits her. I like it.

"What, is – too lazy to get himself?" I complain, and it's always funny because they're my words in a Minecrafter's voice.

"He thinks he's supposed to be out there 'til tomorrow," Singing informs me, offering a hand to help me up. I whack it away and get to my feet, brushing clingy blades of grass off my clothes. I'm wearing a red shirt and blue pants; this village is pretty well-off to be able to afford dyes for everyone. I always drink in the sight of those bright, vivid colours; I don't miss them when I'm awake, but in the dream they're so real…

"Sucks to be him, then," I say and Singing punches my shoulder gently.

"We get to go boating, Sarah! It'll be fun, fun, fun," she begins to sing, bouncing from side to side. "Look, I even brought your bow," she adds, rummaging in her messenger bag and pulling out the minimised version of the thing. It grows suddenly and she offers it to me with both hands. The bow's something else that's always the same; it's my bow, that spruce-wood masterpiece that's the perfect weight and curves so beautifully. It's plain as of yet, but I have plans of how I'm going to carve it. The bow itself was made with help, but I'm going to carve it myself.

It's kind of sad that I'll never get to.

That's all the motivation I need, though, and I grin slyly at my friend as I sling the bow across my back. She hands me my quiver, too, which goes on the other way. With that, I turn around and bolt. "Race you to the shore!" She laughs and yells for me to wait up, chasing me across the rest of the plain and towards the beach that's about five chunks from the village. Reaching the sand finally, I stumble to a halt and look back as Singing as she reaches me. "I'm the one with the boats, y'know," she says, grinning at me cheekily.

"Still beat you," I retort, holding out my hand for a boat. She sighs in mock exasperation and slings her bag off her shoulders, rummaging in it for a moment before taking out one of the minimised wooden vessels and chucking it at my head. I duck but not quickly enough and it conks me on the forehead with a loud _crack_, sending me stumbling backwards and cursing as it falls. Singing reacts immediately, darting towards me and draping an arm over my shoulder as I gasp and pant and clutch my forehead. The pain goes away quickly, but I decide I'll make her fret and continue my overdramatic breathing for a few minutes more. Finally she whispers, "Sarah, are you okay?" and I choose that moment to straighten up and poke her between the eyes, grinning.

"Now I sure am."

Singing scoffs in annoyance as I pick up the tiny boat and toss it into the water. She places her own down as mine expands and I hop in; soon we're setting out across the water and she's singing a silly song about boats and squids she makes up on the spot. Speaking of squids, I can see their tentacled forms rushing by beneath the surface, just shadows carrying trailing ribbons. I think they're following me, actually, and one attempts to breach majestically beside me. It ends up just flopping back into the water and waving its tentacles in the air persistently as it dives back under. I snigger at its stupidity, but Singing's wrapped up in her song and doesn't notice. Setting one foot against the front of the boat (was that the bow or the stern? Can't remember) to keep it moving, I lean back and fold my hands behind my head. There are the clouds again, scrolling past above me. I'd like to be able to see clouds. They're really quite pretty things…

Well, I'm bored now. I never forget this bit and scream at myself to stay seated, to stop being a stupid, impatient bag of guts, but still I stand up in the boat and throw my arms out for balance, one foot still on the prow. Singing looks up and rolls her eyes at me, though I grin at her. "Get down, dummy! You're going to kill yourself if you keep doing that."

"Ah, c'mon, Singing, have a little fun!" I counter, rocking the boat back and forth as it continues to speed forward. She informs me that I'm an idiot and places a hand on the left side of her vessel to send it swerving into mine; they clash with a _crack _of breaking wood and suddenly my boat flips over, pitching me into the water. Blood roaring in my ears, I strike out for the surface and-

_Crack-_

Singing's boat collides with my head and my limbs won't listen to me.

There's still a conscious part of me and oh Notch, I'm feeling pain as my motionless body sinks and sinks and sinks. My mouth gapes open, bubbles rushing to the surface. Pain, pain, how could I have forgotten how painful it is? How cold is that cold and how real is the fear that sinks in my fleshy chest and pulls me down further still. I was such an idiot, so stupid, eyes half-open and vision blurred by the water. There it is, that cave, the cave that's always there except in my worst nightmares where I just sink to the ocean floor and break. The currents pulls me, the squid push me and then the flow of the water yanks me inside, tumbling over and over and over until it spits me out onto sopping rock. I'm face down there, lungs trying to make me breathe by retching again and again, hands trying to push myself up. Stupid, useless muscles; they're not strong enough, they're weak, and my stupid Minecrafter head is throbbing. Then I hear them, the light sound of footsteps, and again there's that feeling of _pain _as claw-like phalanges grasp my shoulder and turn me over. I stare up into an image of empty sockets and a skinless skull that swims blurrily above me, but my dazed brain doesn't comprehend.

Stupid brains.

I see the skeleton take its – probably his – bow off its shoulders and nock an arrow to it. I'm at point-blank range. It points it at my chest.

There's a sudden sharp pai-

And then I wake from the nightmare and look around whatever dark cave I'm in with sightless eyes and the odd sixth sense I see with.

Each time, I'm so glad skeletons can't weep.


End file.
